


Genesis

by omgbubblesomg



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Cas, Double Penetration, End of the World, Everything is Beautiful and Everything Hurts, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Inspired by Fanart, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Multi, NSFW Art, Reaper Dean, Reaper Sam, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-04-30 23:27:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14507784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omgbubblesomg/pseuds/omgbubblesomg
Summary: In the end they come to him, or perhaps they never left.





	Genesis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheFriendlyPigeon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFriendlyPigeon/gifts).



> Inspired by [this](http://thefriendlypigeon.tumblr.com/post/161368917829/hes-in-love-with-humanity-i-was-hungry-for-a) delicious art by [TheFriendlyPigeon](https://thefriendlypigeon.tumblr.com). NSFW wincestiel if you're clicking in public! It's also at the end of this fic so scroll with discretion ;)  
> Thank you for making such desperately beautiful art for us to cry over D': 
> 
> Thanks to [gertiecraign](https://gertiecraign.tumblr.com/) for being a wonderful beta as usual
> 
> guys please mind the tags this is my first MCD fic be coool

He was there as the first fish struggled onto land and he’s there again as earth’s last descendant takes her final breath. The horizon is nothing more than a field of brambles and ash and he alone remains among it. Everyone he has ever known has long since passed. The Winchesters are distant memories as are their children, and their children’s children.

At the end of his days he treads the barren wastes and when he turns around there is only one set of footprints in the dust behind him. There has been no apocalypse. Only time, and its passing.

And this, the final question: what purpose could an angel possibly serve when humanity no longer exists to protect?

And this, the final answer: he is dead. Or perhaps the world is, which is the same thing after all.

“Are you happy, Father?” he asks. There is no answer. There never was.

And this, the final knowledge.

He rests at the place where the ocean becomes the muddy shore. The tides roll unconcerned. Waves lap against his feet and then, when he falls, against his knees.

A beetle crawls across his hand. He hopes it will be there to take nourishment from his flesh when he joins his brothers at last. No hand will bury his body.

“Soon, friend,” he tells it. He finds a dry patch of earth on which to rest.

He closes his eyes. Welcomes the end.

And this, his final request.

“Dean,” he whispers. “Sam.”

They come to him, or perhaps they never left. Not as he last saw them but as they were when they first met.

“Cas.”

How many lifetimes since he heard his name in the mouth of someone else? He opens his arms and Sam folds into them, into him.

“Is it over?” he begs. “Is it over, Sam, is it over, is it.”

“Cas.” Sam’s mouth finds his shoulder and his words drip like honey down skin that has long since forgotten the thrill of touch. “Cas, we’re here.”

Dean wears flannel and leather and Castiel had forgotten… he had forgotten that these things had been as essential to Dean as his guns, his gunpowder. Dean sheds his layers like the sun sheds its last weak rays. They fall like leaves at his feet and maybe he was never clothed, maybe he did this just for now, just to be seen, just for Castiel to remember.

 “I did as you asked,” Castiel tells them. He stayed at the right hand of humanity even after his kind had been forgotten. “I did as you—” his voice cracks, goes silent. His tears join the ocean. Salt in the splintered wound of the earth.

“We know.” Dean takes his hand and kisses his palm and then, slowly, each fingertip. “We watched.”

“There was no point.”

“Perhaps not.” Sam’s lips are against his neck, his jaw. “But you made it anyway.” Their mouths meet at last, at last.

Sam has always made room for others and he makes room now, wide and accommodating in the ash at the end of the world. There’s space between his legs for Castiel. Room for Dean to slot himself behind. With a hand over his heart Sam tips him backwards into Dean’s embrace.

He wants to tell them that he burned their bodies in the night, and that there were many people present. People who mourned. He wants to tell them that their names were remembered for years. More years than his own name lasted. Most of all he wants to tell them that he waited. That he waited even when it was clear there was nothing left to wait for.

Dean’s fingers frame his face and they kiss over his shoulder. He is stretched out between them. In the end he doesn’t tell them about the passage of time. The world has no answer for him. There was no answer then, when their ashes rose in the fire. There’s no answer now.

Sam takes his cock in hand and Castiel is ready for him, for them. Sam’s fingers don’t quite form a circle and Castiel wants to find some hidden meaning there but there is none to be found. Sam widens his grip to include his own erection and Castiel hides the sound of his surprise in Dean’s waiting mouth.

Maybe they had this, before. And maybe they didn’t. It no longer matters. Dean’s fingers line up perfectly with the space between his ribs and Castiel’s heart is beating just beneath them. It’s a human heart, though its occupant is not. It’s the last human heart that will ever beat. Dean pinches delicately at one nipple, drawing him forward. Castiel follows his fingers into Sam who replaces Dean’s mouth with his own.

“We missed you,” Dean might say, or he might not say anything at all. His tongue traces an indecipherable pattern on the back of Castiel’s shoulder. His hands slide down Castiel’s chest to find the place where Sam is working them both steady, steady, a wave crashing slowly against a dark rocky shore. His palm rubs over Sam’s hands until Sam relinquishes his hold. Their fingers might meet momentarily. Castiel has always been the place where they could meet.

Above them the sun begins its bleary descent. It is not the sun that Castiel remembers, though he supposes that it is beautiful in its own way. Beautiful like only a dying star can be. Beautiful as it coldly shrinks. One distant day it will burst forth and swallow the earth whole. And that will be beautiful, too. All beautiful things must die.

Sam cradles his hips and draws him impossibly closer. Raises him up to straddle his thighs. Dean’s hands move between them, not even pausing as Sam lowers Castiel back down.

Time is a capricious friend. It runs slow only at the point that he’s currently in, though even then it is not slow enough to catch the moment of unison. Suddenly Dean is present, is _in him._ He makes space for Dean like Sam makes space for them both. Calls their names into the breeze.

In the ocean something stirs. A deep hungry threat with an open mouth. A slithery thing tumbles out of the water and onto the land, trying to escape the mouth. It flounders for a moment until its lungs learn the meaning of dry. And then it blinks. There's no way of knowing if it's aware of its surroundings, or of the civilisation that came before it. It flops uselessly beside Castiel’s foot.

“Ah,” he says. So this is not where it ends, after all. The slithery thing is dark and scaly. It is moulded by this planet. _For_ this planet. Its descendants will be moulded for it, too. “You are prey,” he tells it. “You’d better grow claws.”

It wriggles desperately in the mud, then rolls over and suddenly it disappears in the thorny brambles. Dean breathes shallowly in his ear.

“It didn’t even see us.”

“You’re not really here,” Castiel reminds him.

“You know that’s not true. Even angels have reapers.”

Ah.

His reapers.

He doesn’t even remember dying.

Sam kisses him. Slow. Cards one hand around to cup the back of his head. Another around his shoulder. Dean presses as far forward as he can go and there’s no space left in between them, nowhere left to go. Sam rolls his body and joins his brother inside Castiel.

And this, the final moment.

“Do we have to leave?” he asks, begs. “Do you have to take me?”

“This is no place for the dead.” Sam mouths against his lips, the bridge of his cheek. The petal-flush of his eyelashes is bruisingly sweet where they openshut on Castiel’s skin.

Dean shifts slightly inside him, outside him. His hands don’t stop moving and pleasure is something Castiel has long since forgotten but his body hasn’t, has not, is not willing to give this up. Dean rubs his thumb between Castiel and Sam’s belly. Castiel wants to let the pleasure be the last thing, the only thing. He wants this to be forever but it’s not. They’re not.

“Will we be together? After?”

“That’s not for us to know.”

He holds the back of Sam’s head. Holds tighter. There’s time for one more truth. “I don’t want to be alone.” He cracks. He’s been alone for so long. A solitary patrol on a world that no longer remembers him.

Dean’s hands are as gentle as his teeth in Castiel’s shoulder. He leaves no imprint for Castiel to find later. “I think,” he whispers, “that Death would be a fool to try.”

Sam’s hair brushes Castiel’s fingertips. His lips taste like Dean. Like himself. He kisses like there’s no rush. His cock is hard inside him, next to Dean’s. “What could possibly keep us apart?” His words echo straight into Castiel’s mouth. He holds Dean’s arm with one hand, keeps them all together.

Dean moves slowly. Eases out to give himself room to ease back in. Castiel feels the approach of a peak, a cliff face. He’s close, closer. The cliff is made of all the light he has seen in this world. It looks like Dean’s hand and Sam’s mouth and the rocking of their bodies. It tastes like sweat, indistinguishable from the taste of tears. He doesn’t want to go.

He stands at the very tip. The precipice.

“Don’t be afraid,” Dean tells him, though he is.

One of Sam’s hands slips down to join Dean’s. They are as together as they could ever be. Castiel looks down the cliff but he can’t see the bottom. He knows what it’s like to fall. But this will be the last one. The last step.

“We’ve got you.” Sam holds him, holds them. “We’ve got you.” His hand meets Dean’s. Castiel’s body propels him to this, the final release.

He tries to hold on, he tries, he tries. But they are inexorable and he crashes in a wave. He steps off the edge of the cliff.

Falling feels a lot like flying and when he opens his eyes he sees wings he had forgotten he had. He is headed for that great and terrible unknown.

The rest is left behind. Fear. Forgiveness. He forgets that there was ever anything else.

When he reaches his destination there is no one there to greet him.

 

 

 

 

 

[ ](https://omgbubblesomg.tumblr.com/post/173497749761/thefriendlypigeon-hes-in-love-with-humanity)

**Author's Note:**

> ha ha ha just jokes guys, ha, ha,, haaa


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